


At Fault

by brightephemera



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:07:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightephemera/pseuds/brightephemera
Kudos: 4





	At Fault

Loghain could draw the map of Ferelden and its major forces with his eyes closed and his hands bound in favor of his feet. Still he studied. Still he calculated. Ferelden had come to civil war. Despite the king’s blindest loyalists having been destroyed at Ostagar, despite Cousland’s lord being dead and Arl Eamon being chronically poisoned – despite Eamon’s knights being scattered on the foolish fantasy of finding a sacred relic to bring him back to health. How many advantages did Loghain have to wrench into place before the convulsions of Ferelden calmed? At this rate the Orlesians massing on the border to “assist against the Blight” would have a clear march to Denerim.

That. That was the unforgivable thing. He could justify the Tevinters in the alienage. When Denerim came under siege, which seemed inevitable, defending the alienage would be a profound waste of time, but not defending it left a flank of the city walls vulnerable. Clearing the wretched population solved everyone’s problems. He could justify that cur Howe. Loghain had granted him the arling of Denerim in the sanguine hopes that it would keep the Howes from switching sides again. Maybe it would even work. Howe was savage, cruel, prone to excesses that didn’t bear close examination—Loghain had known a hundred men like him. Loghain could only hope that his inevitable reckoning wouldn’t happen until after the crisis. He could justify everything. Still he walked a razor’s edge. The Cousland heir and his forces were Maker knew where. If Eamon found a cure and joined with Fergus, and if they opted to escort Grey Wardens over the border from Orlais, Loghain was done for, and his daughter would face a civil war alone. That might be a popular heirloom for a queen, but she deserved better.

This is all my fault, he thought. I should have struck Cousland sooner, lopped off every head at once. I should have kept more potentially loyal knights away from Ostagar’s melee. I should have annulled that damned Circle before that posturing Warden child won their loyalty. I should have used my daughter to secure Eamon’s loyalty – she is his niece. I should have hired a _competent_ assassin against the Warden. The flip side of having the future vision of a strategist was having the hindsight of a strategist. Roads not taken. Problems not prevented. It was all coming apart. He had seen the Fereldan rebellion against Orlais survive convulsions and decapitations, but never had he seen such a complex systemic failure. His to construct…and his to see through at any cost. It wasn’t like he intended to surrender. Not then, not now, not ever.


End file.
